Hospitality
by Firing Rockets on Dragons
Summary: Haymitch is not fond of visitors.


Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy or any of its characters.

Title: Hospitality

Rating: T

Summary: Haymitch is not fond of visitors.

Prompt: #2 Welcome to District 12, Ms. Trinket

* * *

"Here's your stuff."

Haymitch Abernathy's voice was curt and bitter as he slammed Effie Trinket's belongings on the porch of an unoccupied house. He didn't like the idea of some Capitol citizen staying in his District. It reminded him too much that their lives were not their own. But it was a tradition for new escorts to spend the night in their assigned districts to familiarize themselves with the people and the environment. He inwardly sighed. In front of him was the new escort of District 12. She looked ridiculous with her thick make up and false eyelashes. Her jewel-encrusted stilettos were too high for comfort, and her neon green dress seemed too tight-fitting. But she stood straight and held her head high. It took guts to take pride in being assigned to the laughing stock of Panem, but there she was, proud and smug. He shook his head. Young. Bold. Assertive. All those admirable qualities ruined by all the glitter and ignorance. It peeved him that the fate of countless children rests on her hands. He didn't want her to pollute his air.

"Stupid Capitol tradition," he muttered under his breath, "what a load of bullshit."

"Excuse me?" Effie interrupted politely, "were you saying something?"

She heard what Haymitch said, and it wasn't easy on the ears. He obviously didn't feel like welcoming her into his rundown district. She thought that it was unfair because Haymitch gets a warm welcome from the Capitol every year, even going as far as to giving him unlimited access to the most expensive spirits in all of Panem. But she did not take this personally because she thought that a barbarian like Haymitch would not know how to give a proper welcome.

"No, Debbie," sarcasm evident in his tone, "I was just praying to Dionysius, asking if he would be so kind as to not let me drown in my own vomit as I sleep."

"It's Effie," she said through gritted teeth, but she didn't really see the point of correcting him, he probably wouldn't remember her name in the morning, "and if you do not wish to choke in your own vomit, then I suggest you stay sober tonight. It's going to be a big, big, big day tomorrow, and I don't want news of a dead mentor spreading all over Panem a few weeks before the Hunger Games commence."

"Oh, but I'm going to need alcohol, sweetheart," he said, his gray eyes scanning her, sizing her up. He crinkled his nose in disgust, "you bring back awful memories."

She mimicked his actions; her blue eyes examined his messy black hair, the stubble on his face, his stooped posture. She found it unbelievable that the man in front of her is the victor of the 2nd Quarter Quell. She pursed her lips in infuriation.

"Twenty-seven and already a good-for-nothing drunkard?" she spat, "you have some nerve."

"And look at you!" Haymitch was grinning, spewing out his words like venom, "Trying to get to know the people whose hearts you're gonna break. Aren't you something, sweetheart? I bet you already planned your wardrobe for this year's slaughter, didn't you? Tell me, what are you going to wear when our tributes die at the cornucopia this year? Ha-ha-ha! No, woman, _you_ have some nerve."

Effie huffed as she collected her things and went straight to the door. She didn't want to admit it, but for some reason, his words had stung her. She paused when she realized that Haymitch still had the key. She was about to ask him to give it to her, but he was already running all the way back to his house.

"Good night, _Effie_," he yelled, spitting out her name, "I hope you find us hospitable enough."

Effie would run after him and try to retrieve the key, but he already disappeared into his house. She doubted that he would open up his door, so she sat on the porch with her luggage and hoped that the mosquitoes detested Capitol blood as much as Haymitch did.

* * *

A/N: I love Hayffie, but I thought that they probably didn't get along the first time they met.


End file.
